Following his attractive performance of six of Vivaldi's cello sonatas, Christophe Coin has recorded six of the composer's 24 or so concertos for the instrument. Five of these, Michael Talbot tells us in an interesting accompanying note, probably belong to the 1720s while the sixth, the Concerto in G minor (RV416), is evidently a much earlier work. Coin has chosen, if I may use the expression somewhat out of its usual context, six of the best and plays them with virtuosity and an affecting awareness of their lyrical content. That quality, furthermore, is not confined to slow movements but occurs frequently in solo passages of faster ones, too.
It would be difficult to single out any one work among the six for particular praise. My own favourite has long been the happily spirited Concerto in G major (RV413) with which Coin ends his programme. In certain respects this would seem to be among the latest of the six in composition. Coin takes the opening movement briskly but not at the breakneck speed with which Anner Bylsma recently despatched it in a London concert, to no useful purpose that I could see. Here the beguiling charm of the music, with its feminine endings, is realized by Coin whose technique discovers many nuances in the piece. I felt, however, that the upper strings of the dance-like tuttis were in danger of being swamped by the cello and bass. Here, and in numerous other instances, Coin allows Vivaldi's melodies to unfold gracefully and to sing; and sing they certainly do for this writing is in no sense second best to the composer's violin writing. Vivaldi takes the cello through a wide tessitura ranging from bass to treble; indeed, some of the loveliest writing here lies in the tenor register where Vivaldi explores the lyrical possibilities of the instrument with great assurance. Striking, too, is the sheer variety of melodic and rhythmic ideas, not only in the solos but also in the tuttis. A colleague of mine said recently that although he acknowledged that Vivaldi sometimes had good ideas he seemed incapable of doing anything with them. He could do worse than turn his attention to these concertos to redress his ill-founded judgement.
In short, this is a first-rate issue. Coin approaches the music lovingly and with insight and is sympathetically supported by the small string ensemble which, in this instance, comprises the Academy of Andent Music. It is probably too much to hope that L'Oiseau-Lyre will approach these artists to record another group of Vivaldi's cello concertos; but it would be a welcome departure from the senseless over-exposure of works by him which are, in some instances, of considerably less merit. Strongly recommended.'